Indebted
by HopelessWreck
Summary: A/U. Jason/Dick. Jason wasn't killed, he was fired. Resentful and bitter he's unwillingly tasked to guard the child Damian for unknown reasons. Clueless, he must deal with betrayals and truths, both past and present, he never expected nor wanted. And his feelings for a certain bird.
1. Chapter 1

Back To You

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

Bludhaven sucks ass.

Jason hates this city. Has since the first day.

Dumpy. That's the first word that comes to mind. A real shit hole. Not many places can feel worse than Gotham, the sanctum of eternal gloom, but Bludhaven is definitely one of the few, all in a class its own.

The flat he's squatting is one of the worst he's held in a while. It may have been nice at one time, showing the signs of a rather expensive making, but not anymore. Built in a typical New York fashion, stories up from the ground, with an elevator that has since stopped working and stamped with a name too fancy to use anymore. The buildings barely standing. Nearly primitive now. Yet the best he could find under the circumstances. There aren't any gaping holes in the walls and the structure seems reasonably sound, so that's a plus. The height's nice too. And most importantly of all, there's the window.

Large and mostly clear, Jason spends more time at the chipped glass than anywhere else. He would call it an obsession, watching the goings on below like a bird on a perch, but that would make him sound weird and a bit creepy (The bird part would simply be ironic). His goal isn't spying on what he can see, the normal, boring everyday life of the everyman, it's the unseen, what creeps in the night like the darkness of a shadow, the underbelly.

And of course, the men following him.

An unattractive, muddy color fills the sky like a liquid of some kind. It's the same awful shade as the day before, the same swarm of clouds promising trouble. Jason tires of seeing it, watching the last remains of light, an orange rust color that seems too bright, slowly make its way into the horizon. The same scene he's seen for days. The coming of night.

His fingers itch for the window. He wants out of this damned room. Needs some fresh air. A release of some kind. If for no other reason than to bust some heads. The idea is alluring, bringing a smile to his face. The feeling of flesh on fist, the smell of a blazing gun, there's nothing like it. The idea is fleeting, he knows he can't leave, at least not yet. He could, but he won't.

He tries to get most of the smoke from the cigarette in his hand out through the window. The place smells bad enough as it is and chances are he'll be staying awhile. The last thing he needs is another stench to battle a headache over.

It's like being in prison...again, all thanks to that crazed woman and her jacked to all hell plan. Resentment is a feeling Jason knows all too well (it seems the motto of his life) and right now it's the only way he can describe how he feels towards _her_ and the _treasure_ she's entrusted him with. The baggage that's slowly becoming an anvil around his neck.

Everyday is a perpetual loop of the same boring shit. The monotony is making him stir crazy. He feels claustrophobic, like he's slowly suffocating.

And yet, for whatever reason he stays.

A month ago, he would have done it, thrown himself at the first creep that looked at him wrong. Fill the fervent need to shoot something, someone. He'd take anything, any petty crime would do. Anything to escape the cage he's found himself in. All he can do now is stare at the dirt collected on the windowsill and hope it does something interesting.

It's totally pathetic and not at all his style.

The lights click on from above.

"I require sustenance."

The voice is flat, dull and authoritative in a way no ten-year old should sound. It's grating on his ears and Jason would be all be happy to never hear the sound ever again.

Three weeks. The twerp's been in his space for three damn weeks. Feels longer than that, but Jason's counted the days. Three different squatting grounds, three different cities, all with the kid on his heels.

Jason peers at him through a wave of smoke. The boy doesn't look pleased, though honestly, when does he? He stands pretty tall for a kid his age. Blue eyes under ebony hair, close-cropped and razor-sharp, deeply tanned even without the sun. Toned and well spoken, way too observant for his own good and good with a weapon. Yet for all this, Damian al Ghul is still a prick.

Then again, so is Jason.

"You have two hands don't you?"

Damian doesn't like this answer and chooses to glare some more. He speaks with the dryness of the desert he hails from. "A brilliant observation, but hardly helpful."

Jason flicks the bud outside then stretches the kinks from standing in one place for too long. "What do I look like, your mother?" he asks.

Damian look turns even more venomous. "Don't you dare speak of my mother."

Jason feels entitled to say whatever he wants about Damian's mother, but right he's too tired to play another round of incite the Damian. He scratches a cheek with more stubble than he normally cares for and waves away the cold blue stare directed at him. "Whatever. There's stuff in the freezer.." some shitty frozen dinners, same as every other night. ",you do know how to use a microwave, don't you? Or do you need me to hold your hand through it"

The implication that he wouldn't have knowledge of something as inconsequential as a microwave nearly sends Damian over the edge. "Of course I do." he enunciates with grit teeth.

"Then what's the problem?"

Damian crosses his arms. "The _problem_ is that rubbish you simpletons refer to as food. As I stated before, I require sustenance, not the results of some science experiment packaged in cellophane and heated with a light bulb in a box."

It isn't the first time they've had this conversation. Jason's learned there isn't much that Damian does approve of, the least of which being his choice of nourishment. The revival of the topic isn't one Jason wishes to explore. "It's all we got kid, take it or leave it."

Damian looks like he wants to _take_ Jason's head off with his family sword, one of the few possession he seems to like more than any human should. He must realize any argument on the subject is useless and he finally sighs. "Mother would not approve."

Jason can't even count how many times he's heard that phrase in the last three weeks. If Damian thinks it scares him or something, he couldn't be more wrong. "Well mommy isn't here, is she?" He pulls another cigarette to qualm the urge to toss the little bastard out the window. He exhales another cloud of smoke, savoring the taste. "It's not like I enjoy this.." he motions to the space around them. "..anymore than you do."

"I sincerely doubt that." As if it were a contest. Damian has made it quite obvious from the beginning, he hates Jason.

"Don't be so sure." The feeling is pretty mutual.

They stare at each other. Having a _who hates who_ more contest seems pretty childish and since Jason is no longer a child, he looks away first. "Shouldn't you be in bed, or something?"_  
_

Children are a mystery to him. Jason's memories of childhood involve more violence and hatred than most people will ever know. Growing up on the streets of Gotham there wasn't much love to go around and children were basically targets for aggression, both physical and emotional. Jason learned most of his own hatred there and the rest..the rest lies on the shoulders of the big _B_. Damian is better in the fact that he's basically an adult stuck in a child's body, but he's also confusing. Not to mention, beyond aggravating. Why Taila would entrust Jason of all people with her only son, essentially her world, is not only puzzling, but as he see it, borderline insane.

Damian gives him a level stare right before his brow inexplicably twitches. His posture becomes still and his eyes flash to the window. The reaction causes Jason to stop as well. He's not stupid, he knows that look, knows it's not good. It's different from the typical glare of malcontent. Something's wrong.

"What is it?"

His answer is the sound of shattering glass. At first Jason thinks it's the window but a quick glance proves him wrong. That and the shower of sparks from above. The light's been shot.

"Shit." His hands fly to the gun in his jacket.

Damian grunts a sound of agreement.

The sun's completely gone now and the room is now dark minus the lights from outside. All Jason can see is shadows and from the looks of it, there's way too many of them. Things go to hell all too quickly.

The first shot rings loud in his ear, the aim is way off but is closely followed by another that is not. Several sets of feet move across the floor. There's a whole damn group, at least five. Jason heaves the table, hoping the thing will work as a shield and searches for Damian. Best to get him out-of-the-way.

Only, he's not there.

"Goddammit." he mutters. He leans out to observe the scene. Stray bullets fly in his direction, but the table catches them.

There's a grunt of pain, followed by another. Flesh hitting something solid, he can only see a blur of movement and has no idea who to shoot first. He aims for the fastest moving target only to notice that it's Damian.

"Shit kid, what are you doing?"

Damian actually has time to stop and give him a look, like Jason's an utter and complete moron. He even manages to toss the nearest body over his shoulder. "What does it look like, Todd?"

Jason holds his hands. "Right, killing machine, totally forgot. My bad."

"Just shoot something, will you?"

He plans to do just that, but his gun is suddenly jostled from his grip. He feels the breath behind him and curses again before acting. Left with no other option, he headbutts the goon, hears a solid crack and feels the body crumple. He has no time to recover as there's another right on the side of him. He belts this one with his fist and they fall silently backward. Whoever they are, they're down for the count.

Two more follow, Damian is still holding his own, so Jason doesn't worry too much about him. The kid's been trained for this stuff. Talia had expected this, after all. Jason is still unsure of the full details, but right now he's just glad the kid has more than a nasty attitude to his name.

The bigger one looks at Jason and cracks his neck. His eyes shine a bloodthirsty color and his teeth gleam a crooked yellow even in the dim light. There's another gun in Jason's pant leg and he reaches for it.

Only, his hands never make it.

A hand, there's a hand on his gun. A hand that's not his own. He blinks and jerks back, but whoever it was, they're gone.

At least Jason thinks there gone, but he swears someone whispers in his ear.

_Don't._

Jason stills at the sight in front of him. Goons, crashing and falling like bowling pins are tossed together in what seems like one giant sweep. He would swear he was seeing things, but Damian's watching it too. The room clears into a nice pile of big, smelly men, all neatly teetered together with ties on their wrists. The window appears open, but Jason has no clue when it became so._  
_

Jason can see tight-fitting black on the crouching form busy at his work. Jesus, even here? What deluded Batman want-to-be was this freak. His mouth sours. The idea makes his pulse quicken. In fact, he's ready to pull his gun again. He would, but Damian beats him too it.

Wait what?

"One more move and you're dead." Damian aims the gun like a pro.

Jason would laugh, he wants to, but he can't seem to manage it. Something's off about this.

"You don't want to do that." The voice is obviously not real, forced deep and slightly distorted. Still it's familiar, too familiar.

Damian's grip on the gun tightens. "Test my patience and you'll see if I _want_ to or not."

Either this man is a complete moron or suicidal, he doesn't stop and even quickens his pace. When he's done he wipes his forehead and finally looks up.

Jason can't see his face, but knows he's smiling. "Taking to kidnapping now?" The question is directed at him, but the tone is light, more natural and so damn familiar he feels sick.

You have got to be kidding.

"Damian shoot the_ damn_ gun."

x-x-x

Jason expects to hear it, the loud bang from the gun's barrel. See and smell the smoke from the bullet as it discharges from the chamber. Watch the blood paint the wall in a brilliant shade of crimson. Damian will listen, will pull the trigger and do as he asks. He's not afraid of killing, he has no reason to be.

It's a bit of a shock when a full minuet passes and nothing happens.

He's aware Damian is staring at him, probably has been for awhile.

He motions at the intended target, miming the action of a gun. "Did you hear me? Shoot him."

Damian's finger moves further from the trigger. "Why?"

"What? What do you mean _why_?" He snaps, pointing again. "Because I said so, that's why."

Damian gives an _I thought so_ look._ Dammit,_ the kid is clearly in one of his moods.

"I don't take orders from you." He says.

"Christ Damian, now is not the time."

His eyes sear into Jason's own. "Give me a reason."

"Since when do you need one?" Jason can feel his patience slipping. "Seems you were all too happy to do it a second ago."

Damian doesn't respond. His gaze turns to the man under his gun, but his stance is unchanging. He's not moving without an answer.

The newcomer shifts, keeping his attention on Damian and the gun.

"Give him a reason Jason." His head inclines in Jason's direction. "You do have one, don't you?" There's a laugh and what sounds like humor in his voice.

Like this is all one big joke.

"You shut the hell up."

Jason's convinced Damian would have done it, killed this idiot in cold blood. Then the moron goes and opens his big mouth. Now the brats curious and wants to know more than he needs to about the man in the black and blue tights.

Robin, Dick, Nightwing, The amazing flying cock sucker, whatever the fuck he was calling himself these days.

So many emotions flutter inside Jason. Anger, hatred, admiration, jealousy, but most of all, a feeling he refuses to name.

Pushing aside memories he has no time for, he can see that Damian still hasn't shot the damn gun.

"Goddamn brat."

There's another laugh and it doesn't come from Damian.

Jason slams his foot on the ground with a growl. He leans closer, right in the culprits face. "Something funny, _Dickhead?_"

Dick sobers, but he still looks too damned amused for the situation. "Not really." He shrugs.

Damian, for once, actually looks unsure, like he's caught on what to do. He decides, to Jason's horror, to lower the gun and cross his arms. Obstinate little shit. He turns his eyes from Dick back to Jason. "Explain." he demands.

"Not now, Damian." Jason watches the eyes he knows are looking at him from behind the lenses and shakes his head. "Never, in fact. We're leaving."

"I don't think so." The humor is gone from Dick's voice. He puts a hand casually on his hip. It's been a few years, but Dick looks the same, still svelte in a way that Jason is glad to say he himself could never be. Still self-righteous in his own safe naivety. Playing second fiddle, the little puppet that could never cut his strings. "Not until you tell me what that was all about."

Jason's not feeling up to telling anybody anything right now. All he wants to do is get the hell out of here and never come back. His feelings of flight crumble when Damian looks to him as well, like he's expecting a story too. Jason ignores him and turns to Dick."Look it's none of your damn business..."

"Creeps running around my city with weapons, yeah that kind of makes it my business."

Jason can't help the bitter laugh."You damn bats, you're all the same. You think every place you prance around with your tights on in, is _yours._ Well not everyone likes a vigilante with no balls, Dickiebird."

He's not sure why the nickname slips out, but it seems somehow to crush Dick, who looks a bit like a kicked puppy.

"Jason." he murmurs, softly. "I'm so sorry."

Sorry for what Jason doesn't know or frankly care. "Save it."

Dick tries again, never detoured. "They've been following you."

Jason sneers at him. "And apparently, so have you."

Dick shakes his head, hair flying haphazardly. "Only since tonight." He motions to the still unconscious pile of bodies. "They've made quite a mess all over town and I just managed to follow them here. I had no idea it was you they were after."

Jason isn't sure he believes that. Then again, Dick really isn't one to lie. His conscious is too damn strong. Jason sighs. "It's nothing you need to concern your pretty little head over. You just go back to your happy world of sharing and caring and we'll be just fine." He throws Dick a false smile. "I'll even promise not to kill you if I see you again."

"This isn't a joke, Jason."

"Says the man who laughed at a gun in his face."

"I'm serious."

"And I'm not?"

"Just.." Dick's torn from looking at too many things at once. Damian, the cuffed criminals he'll have to deal with and lastly Jason. "Don't be like this." He pauses, licks his lips. "Tell me what's going on. I want to help."

"I think you've done more than enough."

"I want to help you, Jason."

"And you have, now pat yourself on the back and fly back out the window like the good little birdie that you are."

"Again, not funny."

He shrugs. "You know I've always been the comedian."

"Jason.."

"I don't want _your_ help Dick, alright?"

Dick tries hard not to show it, but he's transparent as always. The remark obviously cuts him. He swallows hard and puts on the most neutral of faces. "Then at least tell me what you know about these guys? What do they want?"

"Too many questions Dickie." Jason tries a smirk, the kind he knows really pushes people. Dick takes it surprisingly stone faced which causes him to scowl. "Even if I knew, believe me when I say there is no way in hell I'm telling you anything."

"It's me."

They both stare at Damian. The shorter boy looks back passively. Jason knows he looks shocked, mostly cause he is. "Damian what the hell are you doing?"

Has he lost his damn mind?

Damian quirks his eyebrow, he either ignores or misreads Jason to mean, _go on Damian,_ share everything you know with the strange man who flew through the window, that you don't fucking know. Damian's not an idiot, a pain in the ass sure, but he clearly doesn't care what Jason has to say. He continues even as Jason throws him the nastiest glare he can manage.

"Your city will be safe once we leave." Damian seems to rethink this statement. "Somewhat."

Dick likes kids, always has. He connects with them in a way that Jason never has. What he doesn't realize is that Damian is not a typical kid and his sickening look of compassion is wasted on the child sized assassin.

"But, they'll follow you."

Damian nods solemnly.

Dick states the obvious. "It won't be safe for you."

Damian gives a half shrug. "I can take care of myself."

"He's got a sword."

Jason isn't shocked by the reaction he receives, the dig is pretty low. Damian looks ready to maim.

"Perhaps I could demonstrate some of my skills." In Damian speech, that is very much a threat.

Jason smirks to a nervous looking Dick. "Cute, isn't he?"

Dick smiles, but it's unnaturally tight. He turns to Damian with a hand raised. "That's okay. I believe you." Ever the peacemaker.

Damian takes his words with a severe amount thought. He finally nods in understanding. Yep, the kid's serious about every damn thing he says. It's bizarre, the amount of gravity he views the world with. Mommy sure did a number on her baby boy.

What gets Jason, more than the fact that Damian has once again played rogue on him and not done what he'd asked, shoot the bird, is the amount of civility Damian is giving Dick. It's scary, not to mention dangerous to them both. If this is going to be a partnership of any small kind, Damian is going to have to start listening to him, he's going to get them killed otherwise. They can not afford to hesitate when it matters.

Especially for a pretty face with a damn perfect smile.

Christ, he needs to stop thoughts like that right **fucking** now.

Several sirens go off, all at once. The screeching of tires against pavement move with the flashing of multiple lights. All Blue and red. Shots go off in the distance. Someone's obviously having a loaded joyride. Jason could take care of it in a second but he knows his methods would dampen Dick's morality code. And he certainly wouldn't want that.

"I take it that's your cue."

Dick looks flustered and, dare he say it, annoyed at the interruption, but he nods. "Yeah." He turns to say something to Damian, but shakes his head instead. He speaks to Jason. "I'm going to call this is." He refers to the pileup. "You two might want to disappear for a while."

"Not a problem."

And by that Jason means he has every intention of packing their stuff and moving.

"Jason, I...be careful." One last look and he's off, right out the window and into the air.

Damian watches him go. His look is hard to place.

Jason sighs after one of the goons gives a soft grunt of consciousness. "Pack your shit kiddo, we're leaving."

"But mother..."

"Talia will understand, trust me."

* * *

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

Jason dreams.

Dreams of flying birds, guns and smoke, of lights far off and blindingly close. Dreams like he hasn't in years. Dreams so much he wonders how he ever actually wakes.

The morning light, harsh, unfiltered and unforgiving against his face. That's what finally wakes him. That and the sharp sound from the vibrating object next to his hanging arm, moving itself along the floor.

He groans, hoarse and not at all ready to face whatever it was Talia wanted.

Four hours of sleep tops, it was never enough.

Talia's the only one who contacts him anymore. He has no doubt that it's her. He almost wishes she'd stop. Just leave him the hell alone for once. He'd take being forgotten over the woman's constant, almost nagging attention any day.

He lets the phone vibrate for a few more rings before deciding it wasn't worth the hassle of trying to ignore it. Talia al Ghul wouldn't stop her attempts, no matter how many times he ignored her. The phone couldn't be turned off, he'd already tried. Tried smashing it too. The damn thing was indestructible.

"This better be good." He mumbles before realizing he's already hit the accept button.

"That is exactly what I should be saying to you, Todd." Talia sounds especially bitter this morning. Like the edge of a sword, only sharper, her words cut across the connection with an amazing amount of clarity. He can almost she her. Those fierce green eyes, like daggers in her slim, beautiful face, framed by the dark waves that would make any man quiver.

"Talia, what a surprise." He mocks with astonishment.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" She asks. Not in any mood to deal with pleasantries it seemed.

"Good to hear from you too." He snipes, wiping a hand across his face. "And to what exactly are you referring? How is it that I should explain myself."

It's been two days since the break in, the attempt on his and Damian's lives. Two days since his world came crashing down..again. He'd almost forgotten about contacting Talia. Telling her about their sudden need to move locations. Apparently, this lapsed bit of information was not sitting well with Ms. al Ghul.

"Don't play coy with me. I told you not to move until I had instructed you to do so."

"Oh, that." He gasps in false remembrance. "You know I complete spaced on that. Running for my life and all, it must have just slipped my mind." Good to know she was spying on him, probably had her assassin's on him as they spoke. Would have been nice of them to offer a hand when he'd needed it. "Been watching me from behind your girls there, Tally? If you ask nicely you can get the show for yourself."

"This is not a joke, Jason. I'm trusting you.." Trust seemed like a stretch when she had an unseen entourage following him. "You will follow my lead from now on, or there will be consequences."

What, like the kid wasn't bad enough? Now he had to worry about actual retaliation, from the woman he was sort of kind of working with, if unwillingly. Some partnership this was.

"Remind me again why I'm doing this." He's talking to himself more than her and it's not really a joke. He is curious, demanding even. Something about this whole setup, his surprisingly fuzzy memory, something's going on, something underhanded. He can hardly remember why he'd run into Talia in the first place. Large gaps have presented themselves as obstacles against doing so, against remembering anything since Damian's arrival. He's either got a bout of amnesia or the woman has done something to him.

He's not holding out much hope for either option, but he is going to get to the bottom of it.

He's tired of playing the caged pet. He's waiting, something he's not particularly good at, but eventually he'll learn the truth. The truth that's been hidden from him. The truth why he can't leave, what's really keeping him here, to Talia, to Damian. And more importantly, how to break it. Whatever it is.

And that's the problem, he doesn't know why he can't leave. Physically, he can't leave. No matter how he tries, the kid is tied to him. In the beginning he'd gone about ten miles before he felt it, the pain, the indescribable pain. Pain that didn't even have the decency to kill him. Just white hot pain that refused to stop. He was ordered to return, whether it was Talia or his own body that told him to do so, he had to return. And he did, as much as he hated it.

"Are you going to explain yourself?" He'd almost forgotten the bitch was still there. Her acidic tone is extracting and cold.

As if her cronies hadn't already told her. "We were compromised."

She pauses for several thought filled seconds, no doubt frowning on the other end. Maybe she wasn't as informed as he'd thought. "Compromised? By Whom?" She finally asks.

He considers several options. Even considers lying. But Jason's not about to protect anyone else, especially a bat. "Well aside from the group of thugs on our asses, there's the bat's bird bitch." He offers with a smile she can't see.

She scoffs. "I'm sure you could take care of a few street vermin. I'm not worried about that." Really, cause he sort of is. Especially considering, as Damian had stated before, they where more than likely after him. As if hearing his thoughts Talia adds. "Damian is more than capable."

Jason rolls his eyes at her cryptic tone.

For some reason, Talia seems oddly pleased by the rest. "But the bird. You mean the boy, Drake?"

He's kind of disturbed by the reaction. "Nope. The other one."

Her pitch immediately drops. "You fool." She hisses.

Was she pitching it for the new Robin or something? "Excuse me?" He doesn't like where any of this is going.

She doesn't offer any explanation to her strange behavior. "You will not move again until instructed. Is that understood?"

Jason pulls another smile, cold and fake. "You kind of have my balls in a grip here babe. It's not like I have much choice, is there?"

Her delivery falls, mocking yet amused. "Do not push my hand against you, Jason Todd. Remember your place."

Playing bitch for a kid half his size, how can he forget?

The threat isn't finished. "You will protect my son and that means you will listen to my orders."

Jason quells* the itching to tell her off. "I said I got it, what more do you want?" His easiness is falling, so is his patience.

"I want to know I can trust you." Talia should know better than to want that. Jason wasn't working on a way out of this whole mess for nothing. He would come for her once it was all over. Make her curse the day she'd ever fucked with Jason Todd.

"Sure babe. You know me. I'm your number one, most dedicated fan. You know that better than anyone."

She either refuses his goading or doesn't realize his meaning. He's gonna say it's the former. "We're finished. Let me speak to my son."

"Jesus Talia, you really know how to wound a guy." He sighs. The cold impatience from Talia can be felt through the connection. Impatient and not amused. It's almost a relief when he sees Damian, who, though barely risen, seems to have heard his mother through the phone somehow. At least he didn't have to find the little twerp.

He throws the device at him without warning. Damian's dark eyebrows furrow in contempt as he catches it. "Mommy wants to talk to ya, Junior."

Whatever Damian says it's in their native language and Jason tunes him out. He doesn't give a shit what Damian's going on about. Though if he's bitching about his current company, all Jason can say is, right back at ya.

Getting Damian to switch locations had been like pulling teeth from an alligator. A very pissed off alligator. He'd been belligerent and incredibly imposed at first. It'd taken almost pleading and offering to give him some real food to change his mind. Of course, they hadn't paid for the fine dining they'd taken part of, nor the supplies they'd acquired from a nearby store afterwards. Jason's night had been made when the waitress handed Damian a children's menu and asked if he wanted some crayons for his picture.

Jason doesn't think he's every seen Damian so red and flustered. Almost like a normal prepubescent boy should be.

The amusement had worn off when he realized how much they'd jumped from the frying pan into the fire. The last place had been a a shithole, but may as well have been a palace. This new place, there were no words to describe it. It's that fucking bad. Absolutely disgusting. Hopefully, it would be enough to detour any unwanted visitors, but somehow he doubts it.

There's not much in the way of comfort or entertainment. Damian's voice can still be heard, echoing throughout the small space. If his tone is anything to go by, whatever he's saying, it's nothing pleasant. Jason's left bored and with no way to entertain himself. He can't even jack off in peace anymore. All he has is his own thoughts. A scary thought on its own.

No matter how he tries to distract himself from doing so his thoughts immediately drift to Dick. Of course they fucking would. Not his own neglected dick, though that's a pitiful thought on it's own, the other one. He hates it, hates how easy and how much he's thought of him since his reappearance those nights ago. Not that Jason hasn't thought of him before then, but that's not something he'll ever openly admit.

Dick's interference has brought a whole slew of possible problems. The guy is nothing if not meddling. A general pain in Jason's ass. Always has been. Jason knows he hasn't seen the last of him. Bludhaven's a big place, but Dick's been trained, trained by the best, to be able to find just about anything. Including people. It's not a matter of if so much as when he reappears. Jason just hopes he'll find his answer out of this before then.

Before he has to consider an alternative that might involve a homicide or two.

x-x-x

When Damian returns from wherever he's been for the better part of an hour, his face is deadly serious. This is nothing really new, but Jason notices he still has the phone in his hands. His small hands clutch the object where he types away on it with fervor. His fingers fly over the surface like a seasoned pro and watching him concentrate on the screen with such intensity doesn't put a good feeling in Jason's stomach. He has no clue what he could possibly be doing. Damian finally stops and turns to him.

"Richard Grayson."

He may as well have slapped him. Jason gapes at him. "What the hell did you say?"

"I noticed you referred to the masked man with dick related labels." Damian says with a straight face. "At first I figured it was simple euphemisms, per your primitive sense of humor, but he seemed to respond to the titles and given that Dick is short for the name Richard I put one and two together." He points to the screen. "I found the only Richard in this to be a Richard Grayson, or as you refer to him bird bitch."

Nothing about what he's saying is processing. Jason snaps despite this."Give me that."

Damian surrenders it, but continues. "Originally Batman's sidekick Robin, now known as Nightwing."

Was he giving him a history lesson? He sounds like an information board and it's more than he wants to hear right now. Jason pushes the device in his front pocket with a scowl. "Well aren't you just Mr. Know it all. What do you want a gold star? Sorry kid, I'm fresh out."

Damian doesn't even blink. "The question is, what does he have to do with you?"

And what a question that was. Jason had no idea what Talia had put on the damn thing before she'd given it to him. Apparently, it was more than he'd thought. Why she felt the need to put information like that, a fucking family history was beyond him. What the hell was the woman thinking? What could she have said to Damian? This was basically a weapon and could be downright dangerous if placed in the wrong hands. Like any one of the numerous villains in Gotham or a nosy ten-year old. He'd have to make sure to keep it away from the little troll if possible.

"It's none of you damn business. Keep your nose were it belongs, kid." It's more than just a suggestion.

Damian gives a slight shrug, like he doesn't really care, but Jason knows this isn't the last he'll hear on the subject. Dick seems to have left some kind of impression on Damian, what exactly that is Jason has no clue. He prefers not to think about it.

"I'll find out, either way."

Great now he's gone cryptic.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

He's gone before Jason is able to tell him to stuff it. Just like the wind and other people from his past, Damian moves and no one sees.

Fucking hell, he's really over this shit. Being told what to do, where to stand, how often he can get his rocks off, it's getting pretty damn old. He suspects Talia knew about Dick being here, that maybe it was all part of her elaborate plan. He doesn't want to believe the woman has set him up in some sick mind fuck of a game, but he certainly wouldn't put it past her.

And now he's got Damian running Intel on Dick.

He pulls out the phone and flips through the front screen. He scrolls through and it takes him awhile, but he finds the file he's looking for simply labeled bat. He grits his teeth, stupid bitch, leave it all out there why don't you. What he finds inside makes his blood boil. Names...all names, no pictures but names, names that bring feelings of such anger and hurt he wants to smash the phone into a million pieces. It's starts from the big man himself, Bruce Wayne then filters into Alfred Pennyworth, Richard Grayson and right under that is where he stops.

Jason Todd.

Fuck.

There is no way in hell that Damian didn't see that. Why would she put this shit in his phone? Like he'd somehow forget the names of the people who had ruined everything for him. It had to be for some other reason, maybe she wanted Damian to find it. Maybe she wanted to screw with Jason's head. Whatever the reason, Damian knew now, had to.

Bats, even after all this time, he still can't escape them.

Talia certainly wasn't making it easy either. Her delving into the past, bringing up things Jason didn't want to deal with, it seemed unusually cold, even for her.

He doesn't have to guess where Damian's gone for too long. It's the same place he usually finds him. Their sad excuse of a kitchen. Digging around in their quickly dwindling area of supplies. For such a young kid, Damian eats more than a full grown man. More than him even.

"Do you ever stop fucking eating?"

Damian shoves the empty bag in his direction. "We need more."

"Yeah, I can see that."

Damian's face remains expectant.

"Seriously? Right now?"

A dark brow twitches slightly up. Damian's version of a duh.

"Fine." He agrees. He wouldn't want the demon baby without his food and the idea is kind of appealing. Really appealing actually. A couple of hours alone, it might just be the break he needs. "Do not leave this apartment." He points down to show his meaning. "I fucking mean it."

Damian's arms cross. "I'm not a fool, Todd."

He's surprised how calm Damian seems, he doesn't even fight about going with him. Suspicious, but hardly something he's going to question. Jason's learned his limits. He can go only so far before the pain returns, but he'll just find a place nearby to raid for their needs. Though he may spend a little longer than necessary to do so.

"Leave the window and door locked. Keep out of sight."

Damian doesn't respond, but his lack of argument is enough that Jason will take it as a nonverbal agreement. It's the closest thing he's going to get to a yes.

* * *

TBC


End file.
